


Happy New Year

by Copgirl1964



Series: Soldiers [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Gentle Sex, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, they are in their 70s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28477431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Copgirl1964/pseuds/Copgirl1964
Summary: This story basically follows Greg and Mycroft from the story SIlent Night, where they served as soldiers in World War I.Now it's New Year's Eve, but about 40 years later.It can be read on it's own without knowing "Silent Night".
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Soldiers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085873
Comments: 12
Kudos: 28





	Happy New Year

**Author's Note:**

> This story was kindly beta-ed by @Lavender_and_Vanilla. 
> 
> It's a bit of a gift to the readers of Silent Night, who wanted to be assured, that Greg and Mycroft survived the war.

Happy New Year

Greg slid out of the bed quietly. He couldn’t make out the hands of the alarm clock on his bedside table, but guessed it must be early morning. Cursing his old man bladder, he quickly went to the bathroom. As he’d foregone his dressing-gown, he was acutely aware that the house was rather cold at this time of night, and he returned to bed as quickly as possible. Slipping under the duvet, he was greeted by a sleep-warm Mycroft, who, considering the hard length that immediately pressed against Greg’s hip, was very happy about his return.

Had somebody told teenager Greg that men in their seventies still enjoyed sex, he probably would have been thoroughly grossed out. Even in his forties, he never would have imagined the sweet pleasure that love-making could mean for a man who would turn 77 the following year. There he was though, enjoying the feeling of Mycroft’s hands, as they slipped under his pyjamas to squeeze and tease him until he was as aroused as his partner.

The most difficult part was wiggling out of their pyjamas, while remaining horizontal and under the warm duvet. In the past, that would have been awkward and embarrassing, but now it made them laugh.

Greg rolled over, to retrieve one of the presents Mycroft had given him for Christmas from the drawer of his bedside table – a tin of bag balm, imported from Vermont in the US. Mycroft dipped his fingers into the salve to first cover his cock. Once he’d returned the tin to the drawer, Greg stayed on his side and drew up his leg to give Mycroft better access. With care, Mycroft prepared Greg before pressing into him. Whispered endearment and gentle touches were all that was needed to cause bright-hot pleasure, that swept them away.

* * *

A couple of hours later, both men sat at the breakfast table, and tea was poured by Mrs Ashton, their housekeeper. Molly and Irene were absent that day but they didn’t see each other for breakfast too often anyway.

During the second World War, Mycroft had met Irene Adler while he was working at Bletchley Park. The woman was intelligent and, thanks to Mycroft’s help, one of the few who found work in cryptanalysis. Greg, whose left leg had sustained an injury in the first World War that had left him with a limp, remained in Oxfordshire, where he trained soldiers in tactics and field operations.

During their time in Bletchley Park, Irene saw Mycroft and Greg together once. It had taken her all but ten minutes to figure out that the seemingly aloof Major with the nickname “The Iceman” actually had a very large heart. A heart that entirely belonged to a silver-haired man with huge brown eyes.

Over the course of their work, Mycroft and Irene became friends, and Irene introduced him to Molly Hooper, who worked as a doctor in a nearby hospital. For different reasons, neither woman was interested in marriage but pursuing their careers, and soon they concocted the plan that after the war, they would move in with Greg and Mycroft.

Irene and Molly would share a set of rooms in one part of the house, while Greg and Mycroft would occupy the other part. They’d need a bigger house, but with four incomes, it wasn’t difficult to obtain.  
Every so often, Irene would go out with Mycroft or Greg with Molly. It was enough to convince the good citizens of the town where they lived, that nothing untoward went on.

“Unless you still need me,” Mrs Ashton said, “I’ll be going home now.”

“By all means,” Mycroft said immediately. “Just let me...” He got up and left the room, but returned only a minute later with a bottle of port and an envelope.

Mrs Ashton blushed with joy, because she knew that the envelope held not only her salary but most likely some extra money. With a beloved uncle, who had died while he served the sentence of hard labour for being a faggot, she was happy to work as a house-keeper for two gentlemen who shared one bed-room. That her employers were not only kind people but generous too, was an added bonus that allowed her a more comfortable life than most house-keepers lived.

Leaving instructions how to heat the casserole she’d prepared as their evening meal, she left the men to retire to their study.

* * *

The loud “pop” startled Mycroft from his slumber in his favourite arm-chair, in front of the fire-place.

“Wha…?”

Greg shuffled into the room, carrying a bottle of champagne in his hand and a guilty look on his face. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t want to startle you.”

“It’s quite alright, Gregory.” Mycroft hand carefully felt for his glasses, which he’d put on the table between Greg’s and his own arm-chair. “What time is it?”

“Twelve minutes to midnight.” Greg put the bottle on the table, next to two glasses. “Just enough time for a trip to the loo and getting dressed.”

Mycroft nodded and took the offered hand to get pulled up. Using the momentum, he placed a quick kiss on Greg’s lips before he walked towards the bathroom.

Having relieved himself, he washed his hands and studied the wrinkled face in the mirror. He was practically bald, only some wispy hair remained on both sides and the back of his head. ‘Leaves more room for your handsome face’, Greg always told him. Mycroft splashed a bit of water in his face and rubbed it dry with the towel, to return a modicum of freshness to his cheeks. “Foolish old coot,” he scolded himself for his whimsy.

Greg stood in front of the wardrobe. He was leaning on his cane, as he waited patiently to receive help getting to his coat. To Mycroft, Greg’s face looked as beautiful as on the day they’d met, almost forty years ago. His head was covered with silver hair, which Mycroft loved to caress, and the brown eyes still twinkled.

He helped Greg into his thick, woollen coat, before donning his own. Hats and scarves completed their outfits, as they walked out of the house, both carrying a full glass of champagne. The hotel down the road got his own fireworks display, which they planned to watch as they’d done since they moved into this house..

Their breath was visible in the cold winter air, as they carefully made their way along the shovelled path to the backyard. Between the shrubs, they could watch the fireworks but were hidden from view at the same time.

It had snowed earlier that day, but now the sky was clear.  
“Are you warm enough, my dear?” Mycroft asked, wrapping an arm around the shoulders of his slightly shorter partner.

“Yes, thank you.” Greg leaned into his side, and rubbed his face against Mycroft’s coat like a cat. “I got everything I need.” 

Mycroft gave Greg’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “So do I, my love. So do I.”

The bell of the nearby church started to toll. Counting the strokes, they clinked their glasses at the twelfth.

“Happy New Year, Gregory!”

“And a happy New Year to you, my Mycroft!”

Looking adoringly into each other's eyes, they drank, and the moon shone its silvery light on the two old gents who, after being together for several decades, still started the new year by kissing and declaring their love for each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Although it was much easier for a woman to pursue a career in the 50s, I'm sure they still had their problems when they were single. Being gay, was still a crime, so for Greg and Mycroft living together on their own, might raise questions. I thought it was a good solution that they all shared a house.


End file.
